Pretty Woman
by Yourwishisgranted
Summary: Vegeta leaves a strong impression before his departure into space to look for Goku. Pre-three year Vegeta/Bulma


Bulma remembered the night she last saw him before he took off to look for Goku in space. It was permanently burned into her memory, often haunting her dreams.

There she'd been lounging on the couch, trying to calm herself over what would happen the next day. She would wish him back. Her Yamcha, her love, her perfect boyfriend. She had traveled the cosmos for him and now he would return to her to fulfill the role he was always destined to play in her life.

Engrossed by her thoughts, she had failed to register the presence of the Saiyan in the living room. He had slipped past her line of sight and stood as far from her as he could.

Her final guest. The Nameks would make their wish and go to their new home. But he would remain.

His gaze was directed in her general direction, almost in acknowledgement of her, but the slightest tilt of his head and the way his aristocratic nose was upturned indicated he was separate from her. The room was quiet, and although she felt the urge, she made no move to change that.

Despite her greatest efforts she has been unable to integrate him into Earth's culture. Granted, she could only try so many things in a year and he was stubborn in his refusal to give up his solitude. He had taken a step back from playing offense and opted to watch, recalculate, and restrategize. She could sense it. The cogs spinning in his mind. He would carry it with him wherever he went. He was restless, always training and moving around the compound. And when nothing else was to be done he would pace around and stare up into space, lost in thoughts leagues away from their planet. Idleness was as foreign to him as the concept of a vacation.

She didn't really know him; this specimen, this enigma of a man. He was a creature of terror and chaos, always ready to take on the next task when the world was falling apart. It didn't matter to him what would happen to the places he stayed in because he was so disconnected from everything.

His unpredictability was even less reassuring and she wondered what he would do when they wished Goku back.

She realized after a moment that his eyes were trained on the show she had been neglecting this entire time. The heroes on-screen were reunited after a long adventure.

"Wanna sit?" She asked suddenly, tapping the spot on the couch next to her. She didn't know why she would even bother asking, considering every other time he's scoffed at her friendly attempts to make him feel welcome.

Initially, a fleeting look of surprise crossed his face, then one of mild annoyance, but much to her shock he glanced at the spot next to her as if actually entertaining the idea. She refrained from giggling, knowing it would likely drive him away. Sometimes when she startled him he could be expressive. That delightful look of surprise on his face reminded her of why she'd been convinced that bringing him into her home was a good idea.

It was a reminder that there was a glimmer of humanity in him.

Wordlessly he approached the seat, trying to make as little eye contact with her as possible. He didn't want to give her the impression that they were friends or something.

Bulma rolled her eyes. "You know, I don't bite."

"No, but you seem to carry around some contagion that makes the world louder," he retorted without pause, lowering himself onto the seat. He had a sharp and quick tongue. There wasn't a single part of him that didn't battle.

"I like to think of myself as infectious with joy."

"And like an infection it should be contained."

She sighed. "You are such a grouch. You can't even let loose when a pretty woman is giving you attention? I know that can't be how you are one hundred percent of the time."

"You're right. I suppose then I should just dally around with all my enemies. Should I have dined with Frieza as well?"

"You know we're not fighting you, right? Frieza's gone and nobody's chasing you. You can cut the crap."

"Frieza is gone, but his legacy is not. There are others like him and Kakarot has taken my right to end Frieza."

Bulma dreaded the threat of there being anyone like Frieza. "He did what he could to stop Frieza. He didn't do it to spite you."

Vegeta laughed scornfully. "Look at me discussing a matter of Saiyan pride with a human. How stupid of me."

"Whatever Vegeta. I guess we're all too different to connect to you on any level."

He didn't answer. Something onscreen had captured his attention.

Bulma looked as well and watched closely as two lovers kissed passionately onscreen, eagerly undressing and panting with anticipation. She hadn't exactly known they would include a sex scene in this episode. Bulma's cheeks flushed and she reached for the remote chagrined. After all, this was the guy who got flustered at her most mild forms of flirtation. "Um I could change it if you want. It's a bit awkward and I wasn't exactly expecting-"

"No," he spoke softly, gripping her wrist. His dark eyes studied the screen curiously. "Keep it."

His touch, so unexpected, was jolting to her senses.

Was this the same man who called her vulgar in front of all her friends?

Why wasn't he doing that now?

"Uh, okay..." His hand released it's grip and slowly withdrew, the feel of it seemingly imprinting in her mind forever. Strong, but controlled. Always under control.

The man and woman onscreen had long lost their clothes, and the man knelt at the woman's feet. He was kissing her inner thighs, making his way up with his tongue. The camera zoomed in when he began lathering steadily at her center. She moaned, her hands fisting in his hair.

"Another one of your human rituals, is it?"

"I'm guessing it's not one of yours?"

"It's not foreign to me." He smirked, dark eyes glinting with mischief. "Maybe it's the only thing you earthlings have in common with Saiyans."

She turned to face him, finding that his eyes were on her.

It was impossible for him to be passionate; he was the very definition of apathetic and disdainful. Then in her mind's eye she saw how relentlessly he trained, how closely he defended his identity as a Saiyan, and how he guarded his mind.

No. He was the opposite of apathetic.

She was bombarded with the image of him pinning a woman against a wall, their lips locked in a heated kiss. He would break away and sink to his knees until he was at level with her hips. Breathlessly, she'd watch as he pulled down her panties and fucked her with his mouth with such ferocity that her thighs were a quivering mess. It was ridiculous. It made no goddamned sense. It turned her on.

She was hesitant to ask, but felt compelled to. "Saiyans do that often?"

She could feel her pulse quicken and a much less innocent part of her hoped the answer was yes.

The moans from the woman became louder and the man was thrusting into her feverishly from behind, grunting with the effort. Vegeta's lip curled, his eyes pinning her in her seat as if reading her thoughts. "Perhaps with a pretty woman of a mind to seek pleasure."

The glow from the tv cast shadows over them, adding to the dream-like quality the room had taken on. The two lovers onscreen came, their writhing bodies glistening with sweat as their cries and gasps of pleasure filled the room.

Vegeta the alien. The ruthless Saiyan prince.

She's feared him for so long...

In the dark, she saw someone else.

At this proximity, she was keenly aware of the graceful arch of his nose, his high cheekbones, and his dark lashes. He wasn't an unattractive man, and when he spoke more softly his voice held a certain allure.

A cool breeze blew in through the windows, feathering across her skin. She shivered. The moonlight filtered through the slits of the open shades, accentuating his severe jawline and sensual lips.

It could be tempting enough for a night of wild abandon and ecstasy; to have that mouth between your legs.

He leaned ever slightly closer. "Good night, Earth woman," he husked in her ear.

In that infinitesimal moment, her mind reeling with a ' _Is this real?_ ,' she swore she could carve the air in the room with a knife.

As he drew back, his cheek brushing her own so subtly she could be imagining it, something in her that she hadn't known existed flared dangerously.

Unbidden attraction.

He moved away, constructing layers of distance between them once again. The show ended and the ensuing credits rolled down a pitch black screen.

She stayed quiet as he rose to his feet and strode out of the room. No word was spoken over what tomorrow would bring. She would only see him fleetingly before he disappeared in space with her ship.


End file.
